


One Step Forward...

by lifeaftermeteor



Series: Life After Meteor [14]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: BROTPs abound, F/F, F/M, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Endless Waltz, Post-Series, Preventers (Gundam Wing)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 03:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 13,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11095866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeaftermeteor/pseuds/lifeaftermeteor
Summary: AC 206 ushers in new opportunities for the group.  Duo starts his job working with the ESUN President's office, Mariemaia seeks Relena's guidance about an uncertain future, and Noin returns from Mars which gives Une a chance to explore a life post-Preventers.  Heero celebrates his birthday, Wufei gets an unexpected call which takes him out to Xinjiang, Trowa says goodbye to his pet project, and Quatre flexes some diplomatic muscle.  The autumn brings new loves and a tentative exploring of hearts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 14 of the [Life After Meteor series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/391015), which trails the Gundam Pilots (and others) through the years post-war. Welcome comments/feedback.
> 
> Also kindest thanks to [tumbledrylemur](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tumbledrylemur/) for the beta reading. Couldn’t have done it without you! <3

**Apartment #718  
** **New York, New York  
****206 February 23**  

That damn business card had been burning a hole in his wallet for the last two months.  It stared at him every time Wufei opened the billfold, peeking out from behind a credit card, the crisp edge barely visible. 

He hadn’t told the others of the exchange at the gala in December, though he suspected that perhaps Heero knew something about it.  Whenever Wufei went off on some political tirade, his roommate would level him with a meaningful look that spoke volumes.  “You know who would actually care about this,” those eyes seemed to say, “and it’s not me.” 

But perhaps Wufei was simply projecting his own internal monologue onto the other man.  After all, Heero gave no real indication that he knew anything about that damn business card, gave no outward suggestion that he was any wiser to Wufei’s internal struggles. 

Because struggle he did.  Those precious few hours with Relena had been...nice.  She’d challenged him in ways he hadn’t realized he missed, weaving logic puzzles and traps of false rationality with the best of them.  She’d single-handedly rekindled his lost love of the debate. 

She’d rekindled far more than that, if he was honest with himself.  He had needed a very long, cold shower upon his return to the apartment after the ESUN’s December gala just to scrub the sight of her in that dress out of his mind’s eye. 

And even still she lingered, anchored to his daily life through _that damn business card_.  As time passed, she whispered from his subconscious.   _Come now, Agent Zhang_ , she prodded as the challenges of his new job mounted, _what’s the solution?_  

The days became weeks and the weeks became months until now — _today_ — when he found himself writing her an email.  Some lovesick monstrosity he deleted before hitting send.  Thankfully.  

But now he paced his room with that damn business card flipping over and over between his fingers, the crisp paper snapping as it turned.  Up from his subconscious those clear blue eyes laughed and dared him to move a chess piece.  She’d made her first salvo months ago and he’d ruminated on his response long enough.  And yet the fear of miscalculation drove him into the purgatory of inaction. 

 _Come now, Agent Zhang…_  

“God fucking _dammit_ ,” he cursed and slid into his desk chair.  Opening a new browser window, he pulled up the news article that had prompted his aborted attempt at contact earlier in the day.  The image at the top of the page had shown the new President speaking before some committee or other, but Relena sat not far away, her eyes glued to her mobile when the photo was snapped.  Wufei dropped the article into a new email and wrote only, _Any thoughts on the proceedings?  Reports aren’t trending well._  And before he could second-guess himself any further, he hit ‘send.’  

Immediately dread hit him and he hurtled to his feet with the force of it, groaning between clenched teeth.  Once more, he set to pacing his room with renewed vigor. 

What if— 

 _It’s gone it’s gone it’s gone_ — 

Should he have— 

 _Too late too late too late_ — 

Wufei buried his face in his hands and sighed, defeated.   _Stupid…_  

And then his laptop pinged.  Turning back to his desk, Wufei saw the message alert flash in the corner of his screen.  He took a deep breath and walked back to his chair to sit down.  Then he took a steadying breath and opened Relena’s reply. 

_ \---------------------------------------------------------------- _

__From: Darlian, Relena (Brussels)  
To: Zhang, Wufei  
Subject: RE: Reuters Article 

_ Reports don’t have the full picture.  Humans don’t respond quickly to change.  They respond even worse when they’re organized into an entrenched bureaucracy.  We’ll get there, I think. _

_PS: It’s good to hear from you.  Been too long.  How are you?  _

_R  _

_ \---------------------------------------------------------------- _


	2. Chapter 2

**President’s Suite  
** **Brussels, Belgium  
** **206 March 6**  

Duo sat in the President’s office flipping his pen between his fingers as the staff went around the room discussing the day’s events and the papers piling up on their desks.  Three months into the new ESUN administration, the training wheels were well and truly off and the world was watching them.  It had been a rough transition, and now the ESUN’s billions were laser-focused on where they went from here.  Every success, every setback was assessed and discussed within an inch of its life and at the eye of the storm was none other than Junior-Senator-turned-President Michael Reuson.  The man listened to his team’s reports with the same attentiveness that had drawn Duo in last year, tempting him away from the lucrative and flexible life of an interpreter and back into the public service.   _Calmest one in the room_ , Duo observed, his eyes darting from his boss’s face to those that surrounded him.  He smirked.   _Never let them see you sweat._  

“You also have a meeting with the Special Representative for L5 Diaspora Affairs,” the Chief of Staff was saying, her dark eyes glued to the folded and refolded schedule in her hand.  “His proposal is starting to percolate in some media outlets and we were finally able to lock in a time on your schedule to talk to him.” 

Reuson nodded, his eyes drifting across the room until they landed on Duo.  “You know anything about this?” 

The pen-flipping stopped.  “The proposal?” Duo asked.  “I read it this morning.” 

“What do you think?” 

Duo considered the question.  Amnesty for thousands who had escaped a fiery death in the vacuum of space only to be trapped on Earth.  Abominable conditions met with apathy from the system for years until out of left field came amnesty and a promise of a new start, clean slate, and global citizenship.  Not a bad deal for time served and injustices survived. 

He chanced a glance at the Chief of Staff but found her face unreadable.  To Reuson, he said, “It’s a crazy idea, sir.” 

“Crazy good or crazy bad?” 

Duo’s thoughts flashed unbidden to Wufei and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.  “Crazy enough to work,” he answered. 

“It’s going to take a lot of focused political will to get this off the ground and across the finish line,” the Chief of Staff cautioned, drawing Reuson’s attention back to her.   

“We need a win,” the President told them, “a  _ real  _ one.  Something hard, something that takes dedication.  That’s why we’re here, after all.  Not because it gets us status or attention or an invite to the party.  We’re here to fight for the ones who can’t, to push the system to do the right thing.  So let’s hear his proposal and figure out a way to get shit done.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Relena Darlian’s Office, Earth Sphere United Nations  
** **Brussels, Belgium  
** **206 April 28**  

Relena sat in her office across from the lanky teenager, struggling to reconcile the surreality of it all.  Mariemaia had grown her hair longer, the red strands brushing bony shoulders.  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” the girl was saying.  “I wasn’t sure you would.” 

Relena waved off the concern but admitted, “It was a bit of a surprise to hear from you.  It’s good to see you’re doing well, though.  I assume your mother knows you’re here.” 

The girl turned sheepish, averting her eyes, and Relena wondered where — or perhaps _when_ — that had developed.  The Mariemaia of days gone by knew nothing of self-consciousness.  “She was actually the one who said I should talk to you,” the girl explained.  “She said you’d have a ‘unique perspective.’”  

Relena filed that revelation away in the back of her mind and schooled her features so as to not betray her surprise.  “Happy to be of any help,” she said.  “What would you like to know?” 

“I’d like some advice,” Mariemaia answered. 

“On?” 

“Life.” 

_Ah_.  “Can you be more specific?” Relena asked, fighting a smile.  

Mariemaia fidgeted, which only served to highlight for Relena how still she herself sat, secure in her position behind her desk.  Fascinating how time changed things.  “I graduate at the end of the term,” Mariemaia explained, “and…I’ve been accepted to university…” 

“But?” Relena prompted when the girl trailed off. 

“But.  I don’t know if I can bear to sit behind a desk for another four years.  I feel like...like there’s so much more and I’m...stuck being lectured at for hours on end.  The girls in my class idolize you,” she continued.  “You’ve done _so much_ and you’re not even thirty—”  

_Don’t remind me_ , Relena thought but Mariemaia was still talking. 

“—and I...I want to _do_ things.  I want to be out there, having an impact.” 

Relena quirked an eyebrow at this.  “What does your mom say?” 

“Mom said I should talk to you.” 

Relena watched her.  Mariemaia practically vibrated with youthful determination and undirected energy.   _She’s eighteen_ , Relena reminded herself and thought back on her own life.  At eighteen she was serving as one of the ESUN Vice Foreign Ministers in the post-conflict era.  At the cusp of her nineteenth birthday, she had moved to L4.  And then she thought of the sleepless nights and security measures and insatiable public eye on every action she did (or didn’t) take. 

Refocusing on the girl before her, Relena took a deep breath and asked, “What did you do for your birthday this year?” 

Confusion overtook Mariemaia’s features.  “I...went to a movie with my friends.  Then ate so much I almost made myself sick.  Why—?” 

“They have no idea who you are, do they?” Relena then interrupted, her question rhetorical.  She watched Mariemaia’s face fall and felt her heart go out to the girl.  “Good.” 

The confusion was back, colored with a streak of defiance.  “How is that good?” Mariemaia demanded. 

Relena offered her a sad smile.  “You hold onto that, you protect it.  Because the moment the world knows who you are, your life will never be the same again.  I grew up in the spotlight, put there often by forces outside of my control.  And now, ten years later, my chance at obscurity is gone.  I will never live another day without a security detail hounding my steps or the press at my heels.  I will never not be looking over my shoulder for the next threat. 

“You say you’re tired of being lectured, that you want to _do_ things that have an impact,” Relena continued.  “Can I tell you a secret?”  Mariemaia nodded, leaning toward her enraptured.  “The biggest impact and greatest good is reserved for those who will never be acknowledged in history books.  The anonymous ones who saw a need, rolled up their sleeves, and took action.  The faceless ones who start the movement for change.   _They_ make what _we_ do possible.” 

Relena watched Mariemaia’s gaze turn inward and she paused to let the girl consider her words.  Gently, she asked, “Outside of these walls, who are you?” 

“Marie,” came the reply.  “Marie Peters.” 

“And what does Marie Peters want to do with her life?” 

Mariemaia’s gray eyes rose to meet Relena’s.  “She wants to change the world and leave it better than she found it.” 

Relena smiled.  “So go.  And be one of the faceless ones who can.”


	4. Chapter 4

**L’Apothicaire  
** **Geneva, Switzerland  
** **206 May 14**  

Noin’s return had been marked with much pomp and circumstance.  Sally had spent months preparing for the present evening, nearly all of her minimal spare time funneled into programming a suitable welcome party that that would rival even the best of Martian terraformers’ merrymaking.   

Through careful negotiation, Sally had managed to close down the intimate Geneva bar for the evening with absolute assurances to the owner that doing so would be a sound financial investment.  After hours of free-flowing liquor, she was beginning to regret offering her account up as the guarantor.  But the sight of Noin lighting up at the sea of familiar faces to welcome her back into the arms of Earth’s gravity was well worth the price tag. 

The party had been a raucous affair, burning well into the night.  Now -- as Noin bid farewell to the final stragglers -- Sally crossed to the bar and took a seat beside Une, who was also watching their guest of honor.  “And then there were three,” Sally intoned. 

“Only the strong survive,” Une shot back. 

Sally snorted into her beer, but over the rim of the glass caught the sly grin the other woman sent her way.  Noin at that moment slid up to Une’s other side with a contented sigh, flagging the bartender down for one final glass of anything he had within reach.  Once the woman had a glass in hand, Sally asked her, “So how was it, Martian lady?” 

“Brilliant,” Noin replied, beaming.  “I still don’t know how you managed to find all of these people.  It was quite the homecoming.” 

Sally grinned, feeling a wave of relief.  That had been the point, after all.  More than her personal competition with Martian nightlife, Sally had hoped to get Noin to forget—even if only for a few hours — her absent second half.  Zechs had remained on Mars to continue his search for absolution.   _True to form,_ Sally thought, though she’d never say as much aloud.  Instead, she raised her drink and the three of them toasted the evening, their glasses clinking lightly in the now-quiet bar. 

“What’s next for you, if I may ask,” Une queried, her expression more relaxed than Sally could remember in the recent past.   

Noin shrugged.  “Leave just started.  Figured I’d get reacquainted with the territory first.  I’m still getting used to walking outside without a dome over my head.”  She shook her head and took another drink from her glass.  “Beyond that, who knows.” 

“What do you _want_ to do?” Sally asked. 

Noin considered this for a time and Sally chanced a glance at Une, finding the other woman’s gaze turning inward, as if she too had been asked the same question and was weighing her options. 

At last, Noin replied, “It’s less about what I want to _do_ and more about how I want to _feel_.  I want to be useful, I want to contribute to the greater good.  But I don’t think I’m ready to throw myself into this meat grinder of the system.”  

“So Preventers is out,” Sally interjected, grinning. 

“Quite.” 

“What about consulting?” Une asked from the space between them, her eyes refocusing. 

Noin pressed her lips into a thin line.  “Maybe.  Why?  You got a lead?” 

“I have a hard time imagining either of you working for one of those firms around town,” Sally said.  “The Catalonia kid is all but running one of them.” 

This revelation was met with twin groans from Noin and Une alike.  The latter clarified, “Oh no.  Absolutely not.  I was thinking more along the lines of starting one up myself.  I know the gaps in Preventers’ information and staffing better than most.  I’ve built my own network of reliable contacts over the years.”  She grew contemplative, her fingertips running over the edge of the glass in her hands.  “I haven’t done much since I retired, but the...novelty of not having anything to do is wearing off.” 

Noin shot Sally a knowing look that seemed to say, _I told you so_.  To Une, she said, “You hiring?”  

Une looked up at Noin, surprised.  After a moment, she muttered, “Well—at the moment, it’s just an idea—” 

“A damn good idea,” Noin argued.  “Fuck, I’d throw some money on the table too to be your _partner_ in this little endeavor if you’d take me.”  

Sally watched Une’s face split into a gracious smile and was surprised to feel a flutter in her belly at the sight.  She grinned.  “From what I recall,” she began, drawing her compatriots’ attention, “the three of us were a pretty good team when we were all rowing in the same direction.”   

Une’s smile widened at this, her dark eyes lit by some new fire that had found its kindling in her soul.  She raised her glass and offered, “Here’s to saving the world.” 

“And getting shit done,” Sally added, lifting her glass to meet Une’s. 

Noin sealed the pact and the toast.  “One contract at a time.”


	5. Chapter 5

**New York, New York  
** **206 June 20**  

Heero’s “birthday” had graciously landed on a Friday this time around.  Wufei had long since grown accustomed to the tradition of picking a new one every twelve months or so, a tradition Hilde had started if he remembered correctly.  Over the years, festivities ebbed and flowed depending on other events in their lives.  In 203, Heero had disappeared for an entire day before their move to New York to do some introspection — Wufei still didn’t know where he had ended up.  A year ago Heero’s “birthday” had been in October, and the man had finally managed to convince Wufei to do the Tri-State Tough Mudder Marathon. [1]  They had trained for months and emerged at the other end high on endorphins and utterly filthy. 

This year was comparatively low-impact: Wufei was the token straight friend in a gaggle of gay men.  After the sun had set, the group of them had converged on The Lighthouse — which had to have been the smallest bar Wufei had ever laid eyes on — to chart the course of the evening.  Wufei suspected it also offered some quality time with the bartender. 

“I don’t know why I’m even bothering to stay open,” Darius told Heero from behind the polished bar top.  “My entire clientele is going out with you.” 

“Not the _entire_ clientele,” one of the men — Thinh if Wufei remembered correctly — argued.  “Miguel couldn’t come.” 

“That’s because Miguel is in Houston on business.” 

“Oh.”  A brief pause and then, “In that case, yes, your entire clientele is going out with Heero.” 

Wufei chuckled with the rest of them, watching his roommate interact with Darius.  There was sincere affection there for the man serving them drinks.  He wondered about the backstory but thought perhaps it was best not to pry. 

“You could close early,” Heero suggested. 

Darius shook his head.  “I’d love to but got to pay the bills.”  He patted Heero’s hand, seeming to want to reassure the other man.  “You have fun for the two of us, eh?” 

Heero acquiesced reluctantly but brightened when Darius winked at him.  Talk then shifted to next stops, drink specials, and — to Wufei’s surprise — chaperone duty, something which came at suggestion of Eve, the drag queen. 

“Why do we need a designated sober friend?” protested the man sitting beside Wufei.  He tried to recall the name.  Kane, he thought.  The man had a punk rock, starving artist vibe.   

Eve leaned close to Heero and wrapped a thin arm around his waist while she rested her chin on his shoulder.  “Because I want _this one_ to get well and truly obliterated for my own damn amusement and I suspect we’ll never get him home safe without at least one responsible member of this party.  And that person _will not_ be me.” 

“I’ll do it,” Wufei offered with a shrug. 

“You sure?” the cop — Andrew — asked, seeming wary.  “This crew can get a bit unwieldy after a few.” 

“This isn’t because he’s your subordinate, is it?” Kane asked. 

“Wufei and I have a unique working relationship,” Heero interjected. 

Wufei fought a smile.  “Yeah — I tell him to do things and he does them.  Usually on time.” 

“What do you mean ‘usually?’” Heero demanded, glaring at him. 

Wufei smirked.  To the others, he said, “I will gladly volunteer as the sober one.  I have a sneaking suspicion some of you would rather see him get into trouble, and that would be inconvenient for _me_ , so I’m just protecting my own interests here.” 

“Ah yes, self-interest.  A great motivator,” Eve teased.  Clapping her hands together, she declared, “Route determined.  Chaperone secured.  Let’s go.”  To Wufei, she added, gesturing at his untouched beer.  “I realize that’s your only one tonight, but you don’t get to savor it.  Bottom’s up.  We’ve got places to be!” 

Wufei shrugged and lifted the glass.  He then exhaled, tilted his head back, and with a quick swallow poured the alcohol down his throat.  It only took a few seconds, but in that time he registered a few surprised outburst from the others and that alone was worth it. 

Setting his now empty glass down, he found Heero laughing and Eve stunned.  From behind the bar, Darius nodded and said, “Nice form.  I think you just gained a few more friends.” 

“I think you may have broken Eve with that display,” Andrew observed. 

The drag queen flushed.  “My mind went straight into the gutter, I’ll confess,” she said.  “I have to recalibrate my earlier assessment of you.  I think you may be playing for the wrong team.” 

Wufei winked at her and gestured to her half-finished martini.  “Bottom’s up,” he said, echoing Eve’s earlier words back at her, “we’ve got places to be.” 

As they left the bar, Heero came up beside him.  “You don’t have to be the sober one,” he murmured. 

When he looked up, Wufei found Heero’s eyes concerned.  “I know,” he told him.  “That’s why I volunteered.”  This seemed to reassure Heero and as Eve swept up beside him to hook her arm through his, he didn’t resist being pulled away. 

They spent the evening bar-hopping and Wufei found a new appreciation for Quatre’s patience with their own group of miscreants.  ‘Herding cats’ was indeed an apt description of his responsibilities.  Between keeping track of the lot of them and keeping his roommate hydrated, he had his work cut out for him. 

“Drink this,” he instructed upon arrival at their most recent stop, pushing a tall glass of water toward Heero.  “All of it.  You’ll thank me in the morning.”  Heero rolled his eyes but did as he was told before disappearing once more out onto the dance floor. 

Had that been the greatest challenge of the evening, he would have counted himself lucky.  But course it was not.  Early in the morning, they were relocating once more when Heero and Eve paused a few paces ahead of the rest of the group at the mouth of an alley.  Wufei came up beside them and was about to ask why they had stopped when a hateful catcall had hurdled up from the shadows.  Turning to look down the alley himself, he saw a cluster of four men, obviously drunk, lurking in the near-darkness. 

“Let’s go,” Eve urged, tugging at Heero’s arm.  “They’re just gunning for a fight.  They don’t care who it’s with.” 

For a moment, it seemed Heero was amenable to this idea...and then one of the men in the alley opened his mouth again.  In seconds, Heero had slipped free of Eve.  And then he had slipped past Wufei’s outstretched hand.   

Wufei cursed and told the others, “Stay here,” before darting after his roommate.  Some part of him registered Andrew covering the alley, his NYPD training overriding the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream.   

Catching up with Heero, Wufei jumped between him and the hecklers.  “Heero!” Wufei snapped, as he raised his hands in supplication even as Heero continued his advance toward the cluster of men.  “They’re not worth it.” 

“Why not?” Heero asked, sounding eerily conversational, his eyes still locked on his target over Wufei’s shoulder.   

Wufei racked his brain for any and all reasons for why this was a very bad idea, but he’d seen that look in Heero’s eyes before and knew none of those reasons would stop the impending fight: a few of the reasons ‘against’ would likely double as reasons ‘for’ in his roommate’s present mindset.  And then he said, “Think about the paperwork.” 

Against all odds, Heero stopped.  He turned to look at Wufei, questions in his eyes. 

Taking a deep breath, Wufei argued, “Remember who we work for.  You beat the tar out of these assholes, it will _ruin_ the rest of our evening.  Because, regardless of how much they deserve getting their teeth kicked in, _you and I_ will be the ones documenting everything in triplicate.” 

He watched Heero’s face morph into a pained grimace.  The taunting had started up again behind Wufei, but he schooled his features and held his breath.  Heero then told the hecklers, “No bullshit from you is worth a mountain of paperwork,” and spun on his heel.  He returned to Eve, who looked just as relieved as Wufei felt.   

Air escaped Wufei’s lungs with an explosive sigh as he too rejoined the group that loitered at the mouth of the alley.  He took up his position behind Heero and Eve, who were locked at the elbows, leading the group deeper into the city.   

Wufei then felt Andrew fall into step beside him.  “Why’d you stop him?” the beat cop asked quietly, honest curiosity coloring his words.   

“Because I don’t feel like logging a homicide report,” Wufei replied.   

There was a pause while Andrew tried to determine if he was joking or not.  Still unsure, he pressed, “Really?  Or…” 

Wufei smirked.  “Heero is not a violent man.  Far from it.  I like to think that’s what makes him particularly dangerous—people underestimate him.  To their own detriment.” 

The near-fiasco was quickly forgotten as the night wore on, much to Wufei’s...well, in truth he wasn’t sure how he felt about the collective short-term memory of his charges.  He supposed it was good for morale, but as the lone unimpaired member, the exchange in the alley had left him shaken for a good hour afterward. 

He didn’t start to relax again until they’d all piled into a private room in some karaoke lounge.  For the first time in hours, the group was all in one place and would remain so until they moved on.   

Grabbing a tablet from the center table, Wufei placed an order for waters first and then began taking requests from the others for everything else.  Eve meanwhile was already skimming the music catalogue.  “You’re up, Wufei,” she told him. 

“Um...what?” Wufei asked, thinking perhaps he had missed something. 

Amidst the sporadic laughter and side conversations, Eve explained, “If you’re not drinking, you’re singing according to the rules that I just made up. [2]  Come on,” she encouraged.  Making a selection from the menu before her, she tossed him the second microphone.  “I’ll go first.” 

To Wufei’s relief, he did recognize the song, even though Eve’s rendition warped the vowels due to her heavy New Yorker accent.  Some saccharine love song, a duet no less.  Wufei shook his head at the absurdity of the lyrics before taking a deep breath and joining in. 

He vaguely registered the reverent, “Holy shit,” that came from Eve.  It was followed immediately by, “You didn’t tell us he could sing, too,” which Wufei assumed Thinh had aimed at Heero.  He glanced sidelong at his roommate and found the other man grinning widely, his mobile out and aimed directly at Wufei. 

The song felt longer than Wufei remembered.  When it did finally end, his cheeks burned with delayed embarrassment even while Heero’s friends clapped him on the shoulder in appreciation.  Eve bit her lip, her eyes watching him with renewed interest. 

“Clearly you’re the karaoke secret weapon,” Heero told Wufei as he climbed over Andrew and dropped into the seat beside Wufei.   

“Don’t tell the others,” Wufei implored.  “They’d have a field day.” 

“Too late,” Heero replied, sounding none too apologetic about it.  “They’ll have to make do with photographic evidence, though.  I’m too drunk to figure out the video settings on my own damn phone.” 

Wufei laughed and leaned back in his seat to look up at the ceiling while Thinh and Kane started in on some pop rock monstrosity.   _ Not a bad way to spend an evening _ , he thought,  _ all things considered. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] The Tough Mudder is an absolutely ridiculous obstacle course/run. [Check it out](https://toughmudder.com/).
> 
> [2] Eddie Izzard Easter Egg


	6. Chapter 6

**Apartment #718  
** **New York, New York  
** **206 June 21**  

Wufei groaned as his mobile set to chirping insistently from where it sat on his desk.  He rolled over and buried his face in his pillows in a weak attempt to flee from the noise, but they did little to block out the alarm.  With a defeated huff and the half-formed thought of, _Thought turned off_ , he dragged himself out of bed and trudged the short distance to his desk.  Bleary-eyed, he growled, “I’m up, I’m up,” at the device, only realizing after he’d picked it up off the desk that it was an incoming call, not the alarm.   _This better be good,_ he thought while he glared down at the ‘Unknown Caller’ on the screen before answering, “Zhang.” 

“Good morning,” Relena told him, her voice bright and clear.  “Turn on your television.” 

Still struggling against the cobwebs of sleep, Wufei replied, “I don’t suppose I need to remind you about what time it is here in New York.” 

“I know it’s early, but you’re going to be glad I called.  I promise.  Turn on the TV.” 

“Can’t you just _tell me_ what you’re calling about?” Wufei grumbled, but he was already moving through the apartment and into the main living area.   

“No, because that would be too easy.  And you wouldn’t believe me anyway,” she told him, sounding mildly amused and utterly certain of this assessment. 

This had him intrigued.  Picking up the television remote from the coffee table, he turned on the set and started channel flipping.  “What am I looking for?” 

“ESUN proceedings.” 

Wufei tuned into the lone channel broadcasting out of Brussels at this hour.  He caught the President mid-address.  A quick glance at the ticker scrolling across the bottom of the screen suggested it was unrelated, but as Wufei’s sleep-deprived brain started to process the audio, he caught words like ‘vulnerable’ and ‘responsibility to protect.’  “This status will offer amnesty to one of the ESUN’s most disenfranchised populations,” the President was saying, “and I thank the Council for its support—” 

“ _Wǒ de tiān_ ,” [1] Wufei hissed as the pieces fell into place. 

From the phone still pressed against his ear, Relena laughed.  “Congratulations on getting your first good idea through the system.  We split the Federation vote [2] — the proposal passed with help from Taipei.  You’re now a global citizen.” 

“Holy shit,” Wufei cursed, his mind still reeling.  Relena laughed again and the sound made him flush. 

“Now the hard part starts,” she told him, sobering.  “Implementation is going to be a bitch.”  Another beat, and then, “They’re going to need volunteers.  Figured I would give you a head start.” 

Wufei felt like he was treading water, still struggling to fully comprehend the news.  And just beneath all of that was the dawning realization that she had called him.   _She_ had _called him_ to tell him.  The knowledge did something to his chest and suddenly it was rather difficult to breathe.  “Relena,” he managed to gasp.  

“Yes?” 

Words swirled in his brain, grasping for purchase, but none of them would suffice.  Finally he settled for only, “Thank you,” hoping the words would convey all the weight he placed on them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] 我的天 (wǒ de tiān) = Oh my God 
> 
> [2] Reminder for readers: the Federation of Chinese Nations (which sourced L5 originally) is a loose conglomerate comprised of several territories, to include Mainland China, Taiwan, and Hong Kong.  Since each member of the Federation gets a vote in ESUN proceedings as an independent actor, you usually need them all behind you to get anything of true substance done.  This is because they tend vote together (or abstain) due to domestic politics and political horse-trading internal to the Federation’s members themselves.  But in rare occasions, you can get them to split the vote.  


	7. Chapter 7

**Apartment #718  
** **New York, New York  
** **206 June 21**  

Heero dragged himself up from deep sleep to the sounds of life returning to the world around him.  The scent of coffee brewing drifted to him as he became more aware.  Someone was making laps around the apartment, up and down the hall outside his bedroom door...and then sudden silence. 

He took a deep breath and was relieved to find his brain was not exploding, although his mouth was dry.  Slowly, he sat up and planted both feet on the ground and was pleased to discover the world was not spinning.  He owed his roommate for his dedication to hydration the night before, his fuzzy brain determined.  Pausing only to pull on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, he reluctantly left the safety of his bedroom.   

In the hallway, he found a pair of suitcases packed and waiting at the front door.  Heero walked onward into the common area and found Wufei leaning over the dining table with his laptop open, fingers flying over the keys.  “What’s going on?” Heero asked, feeling a sudden wave of anxiety creep up his spine. 

Wufei jumped, apparently having not heard him enter the room.  Straightening, he spun to face his roommate and Heero watched various thoughts unspoken flash across the man’s face before Wufei eventually settled on, “I’m taking a leave of absence.” 

Heero considered this for a moment then asked, “This isn’t about me making you sing karaoke last night, is it?” 

Wufei gave him an incredulous laugh and shook his head, which Heero found reassuring.  His gaze then unfocused in a way Heero recognized: the man was trying to slow his thoughts down to where he could rationally communicate them all.  Something was up. 

“The ESUN just granted amnesty to the L5 diaspora,” Wufei at last explained.  “They need volunteers to process them all for global citizenship in the field and to help with any...crowd control as necessary.” 

“You’re going then,” Heero observed. 

“I need to,” Wufei said. 

Heero could practically feel the pull in those words himself, even though he couldn’t fully understand it, that need to reconnect with something that was ingrained in your DNA.  A sense of community lost and regained.  A shared silence followed and he took the opportunity to cross the room and round the corner into the kitchen, relieved to find coffee still in the carafe.  He poured himself a cup. 

Wufei meanwhile continued his exposition.  “I’ve already talked to the Chief,” he said, leaning against the dining table while his eyes followed Heero.  “I suggested you serve as Deputy in my absence.” 

Heero snorted and shook his head.  “Thanks for the promotion.  I'll endeavor not to out-perform you.” 

Wufei smirked back at him.  “It was just a suggestion.  I don’t know if he’ll even take me up on it.” 

“The Chief takes you up on _all_ of your suggestions, and you know it,” Heero countered.  He saw the flash of uncertainty in those dark eyes, and sought to head it off.  “I’ll happily serve as first-runner-up Deputy if it frees you up to go do some good.” 

Heero watched Wufei’s face soften at the assurance and was surprised by the naked gratitude he saw there.  “Thank you,” Wufei said, and the words sounded heavier than they had any right to.  Heero only nodded, acknowledging and accepting the new burden.


	8. Chapter 8

**Central Appalachia, North America  
** **206 July 11**  

With a bittersweet ache in his chest, Trowa had secured the motorcycle to the flatbed of one of the roustabouts’ pick-up trucks.  The circus had just wrapped a series of short performances dotted along the Coastal Carolinas, maximizing ticket sales with the flock of tourists to the region, and would be heading out again soon.   

After hours of driving, the highways turned to back roads that wound their way along the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains until Trowa finally pulled up to Everett Adkins’s garage and repair shop.  The older man stepped out of the shop, wiping his hands on a rag which he shoved back into his pocket while he grinned like a demon.  Together they released the bike from her restraints and set her on the ground, the lot’s gravel crunching underfoot.  Once the bike was settled, they stepped back to admire the work. 

Refurbished, retrofitted, its green paint polished to gleaming, the motorcycle was quite the statement piece.  And she ran as good as she looked, Trowa made damn well sure of that.  He’d taken it for a ride a few times just to make sure it didn’t explode when he revved the engine down dusty, abandoned roads in Middle America or the expressway labyrinths of Asia.  He’d pushed the bike beyond her expected limits and felt the glow of pride in his chest with the knowledge that he’d made her worthy of the vagabond life he hoped to give back to her. 

Trowa had picked the bike up years ago—probably in the Philippines, if he remembered correctly—and had stashed it in his trailer during moves with the circus.  He had spent the time in between performances, practice, and “family gatherings” repairing the rusted-out wreck it had been and restoring her into something worthy of the roads she belonged on.  It had taken years to find all the parts for her, scattered across the globe.  One of the stops in his search had been this very garage.   

Everett had been an unexpected ally in his mission to rebuild the motorcycle.  When Trowa had first appeared on his step looking for obsolete parts, he found he had liked him before he’d even opened his mouth.  The man’s graying hair was buzzed short in military fashion, but he’d let his beard grow out, giving him a somewhat disheveled appearance.  His skin had been tanned by years of work outside and the lines at the corners of his dark eyes made it seem he was always squinting into the sun...and silently judging outsiders.   

Trowa had seen glimpses of a kindred spirit in Everett: a man who had set his hands to work to rebuild things in the absence of more violent purposes.  It made him wonder what his own future held when performing was no longer enough...or viable.  When it was at last time to say goodbye to the bike, Everett had been the first person Trowa had thought of—the man needed the road as much as he did. 

Turning from the bike to Trowa, Everett asked, “How much you want for her?” 

He shrugged.  “It seems odd to sell it to you when you provided the parts that made her run so well.” 

“You _bought_ those parts,” Everett corrected.  “Nothing odd about it in this line of work.  How much you want?” 

“How much you willing to pay?” Trowa countered.  “I always planned to release her back into the wild once I knew she was ready.  Getting carted around with a circus caravan doesn’t seem like the right fit, you know?  She deserves something grander than that.” 

“A wealthier man would easily shell out thousands for this kind of work.” 

“And he’d stick it in a garage to collect dust,” Trowa argued.  “I’m not looking for a wealthy man; I’m looking for an honest one.”  He wrapped his long fingers around the handle, almost possessive.  “This bike has gotten me through some rough times.  Even when I was getting dealt shit hands, she gave me something to occupy my time.  I hate to see her go, but if she must, then she’s gotta go to someone who will give her a purpose.” 

Everett’s face seemed to soften at this and Trowa bit down on the inside of his cheek, feeling vulnerable.  “How about this,” the older man began.  “How about I take this beauty off your hands at whatever price I can offer.  And in exchange, I give you that one.”  He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, drawing Trowa’s attention to the far corner.  There he saw an old, rusted motorcycle sitting neglected and half-concealed by a canvas tarp.  “Rescued her from a chop shop.  I figure you pulled one phoenix from the ashes...let’s see you do it again.” 

Trowa smiled and thought of absent friends.  “Seems to be my lot in life.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Tarim Basin, Xinjiang  
** **Federation of Chinese Nations  
** **206 August 12**  

Mariemaia had traveled halfway across the world from London to the European Mainland and then onward to Urumqi.  There, she and at least half a dozen other volunteers were greeted by a tall, Icelandic woman, who introduced herself as Eva Mínervudóttir.  Eva told them that she had been working in the Federation on L5 diaspora issues for the better part of the decade, but had joined the global citizenship program several months back, prior to its formal roll-out in June.   

From the airport, they started to drive.  The new cadre of volunteers spent the time filling the van’s stuffy air with stories of ethical interventions and protests and higher learning that made Mariemaia forget her anxiety.  As the highways became mountain switchbacks and then eventually evolved into desert roads, talk turned to the mission at hand and the dust that seemed to coat everything outside the van in grime. 

“There’s been some water and land reclamation efforts, but a desert’s a desert for a reason.  Only so much you can do,” Eva was saying in answer to someone’s environmental question.  “Though the dust storm is a new one.  Usually we can rely on the mountains to knock most of this stuff out of the air.  No such luck this time.” 

As the van trundled along the dirt road, they came upon an armed checkpoint.  Looking out the dusty window, Mariemaia spotted the blue helmets and Preventers badges through the haze.  Eva flashed her badge and the guards waved them onward.   

A question lingered unspoken amidst the van’s passengers, and Mariemaia bit her lip as thoughts drifted back to the pre-arrival security briefing.  Generalized harassment of refugees had evolved to ever more threatening and premeditated violence, but the perpetrators had continued to escape prosecution, likely with local support.  A week ago, three of the aid workers were maimed by an IED on the side of the road.   _This road, as it happens,_ she realized.  She tried not to think about it and took a shaky breath. 

As they pulled into the aid camp, Eva hopped out of the van and urged them to do the same.  “Best light we’ve had all day.  Take a good long look.” 

Mariemaia climbed out of the van with the rest of her new companions and moved to stand beside Eva.  Barely visible through the haze of the dust storm was the barbed wire and chainlink fences and controlled access gates of a refugee camp that was built piece by interlocking piece until all that was left was a prison.   _A monster,_ was the only thought that came to mind. 

“Agent Zhang!” Eva then shouted at a cluster of men and women who stood a short distance away.  It looked to Mariemaia as though they hadn’t slept in the better part of a week, their shoulders slumped while some stifled yawns or rubbed at their eyes.  At Eva’s shout, one of the men looked up, a bandana hiding the lower half of his face.  “Fresh batch of volunteers for you to break in.” 

With what Mariemaia assumed was parting words, the man backed away from his original group with a wave and took several long strides toward them.  She felt her breath hitch as she watched him approach.  They way he held himself was unmistakable even a decade on, but she found herself thinking, _Not possible_ , regardless all the way up until he stood before the clustered group of new recruits.  As he pulled down the bandana, her heart launched into her throat. 

“Everyone, this is one of our team leads, Agent Zhang Wufei.  He’ll be managing the lot of you.  He comes to us all the way from the New York Preventers Branch and runs a tight ship.  So when he says, ‘Jump,’ you do not ask him, ‘How high?’ because you better have already anticipated his requirements.” 

Wufei snorted and rolled his eyes at the aid worker but Mariemaia nonetheless felt a surge of anxiety race through her belly.  Apparently she wasn’t the only one, based on the wave of fidgeting that swept through the group which stilled only when Wufei trained his dark eyes on them.   

Those eyes were as shrewd and calculating as she remembered.  The only change seemed to be the age that surrounded them.  When they reached her, they lingered and there was a flash of something like recognition but it was buried as soon as it appeared. 

“Do _any_ of you speak _any_ Mandarin?” Wufei asked, sounding disheartened before he even got a reply.   

At the question, two people in Mariemaia’s group raised their hands.  Wufei gestured half-heartedly at the man who responded in a language Mariemaia didn’t know, all heavy consonants and a plethora of ‘r’s.  She turned her eyes back to Wufei and watched his right eye twitch as the man spoke.  “You sound like you’re from Beijing,” he told the other man. 

“It’s where I got my PhD—” 

“The dialect is different enough that you’re going to have a rough time communicating,” Wufei told him before turning his attention to the woman who had raised her hand.   _“Nǐ ne?”_ [1]  Her reply sounded thinner to Mariemaia’s untrained ear.  Wufei shrugged and sighed.  “Not bad,” he said.  “Throw in a few ‘j’s and round out your vowels.”  

“Hard or soft ‘j’s, and where?” the woman asked him. 

“ _Soft ‘j’s,_ and ‘everywhere’ until you figure it out.”  Turning to Mariemaia, he said, “I assume you don’t know any at all.”  

Mariemaia bit her lip and shook her head.  “No, I don’t.” 

Wufei squinted at her and grimaced.  “They’ll probably give you a pass with hair like that,” jutting his chin at her bright red locks.  “Alright,” he said at last, sounding resigned.  “Follow me.  There’s not much light left, so we’ll give you the abbreviated walk-through.  We’ll do introductions at the camp tomorrow morning.”  He turned on his heel and started walking away toward some of the other buildings.   

Eva fell in step beside him, signalling the rest to follow.  As they moved, she pivoted on her heel and continued to keep pace with Wufei while she walked backward to address the rookies. “Just to recap: there are four refugee camps on Earth.  Two in the Federation, one in Kazakhstan, and another in Peru.  This one is by far the largest with 30,000 people.” 

“Jesus, how did they all get here?” someone in the group asked, sounding appalled. 

“Most were rounded up in global crackdowns on illegal immigration a few years back,” Eva replied with a grimace.  “But with nowhere to send people back _to_ , into the refugee status they go.  Our job is to get them documented and off to their new starts as quickly and safely as possible.” 

“Where will they go?” Mariemaia asked, staring off into the vast city that was the camp itself.  There were so many people… 

“Most will go star-side again,” Wufei answered from the head of the group, his tone contemplative, “assuming we can get the colonial Island Councils onboard with the idea.  Others have made their homes on Earth and have friends and livelihoods here they’d like to return to.  But they all need papers before we can get beyond that.  Papers first.”   

To Eva, Wufei said, “I’ll catch up with you later.  I need to go talk to some of the interpreters.  Can you get them settled?”  Eva nodded and waved him off.  Pulling his bandana back into place, Wufei then turned away and headed towards one of the guarded entrances to the camp.   

Mariemaia watched his form retreat into the haze for a time before allowing herself be ushered along with the rest of the group for the remainder of the orientation tour.  As the light faded and the complex was absorbed by oppressive night, the new volunteers set about unpacking their bags in the makeshift barracks.   

“You hear how Eva pronounced his name?” one of the men asked no one in particular as they started turning down their bunks.  “Our team lead, I mean.  It’s different.” 

“I noticed too,” someone else had agreed from down the row of cots.   

“Noticed what?” Mariemaia asked, curious.   

“Eva called him ‘tzhj-eohng,’” the man explained.  “On Earth we’d say _zhāng_ or _chāng_ or _cheong._ [2] Something like that.  It’s like they couldn’t decide what dialect to take up to the colony, so they slammed them altogether.  Means he’s one of them.” 

“I like it, personally,” Mariemaia told them, grabbing a flashlight and standing up.   

As she headed out into the night, she heard the man say, “I didn’t mean it sounded _bad_ , just that—” but she was already gone, the large tent flap falling back into place behind her.  The night embraced her, the residual heat of the day rising up from the earth underfoot.  Looking out over the camp before her, its walls and wire rising up around them, she shuddered.   

Thinking through the layout of the aid workers’ base camp, she retraced her steps from earlier in the day back toward the mess hall and unit leaders’ quarters.  She considered asking one of the other workers huddled by a campfire when she couldn’t immediately find the tent she was looking for, but thought better of it.  She wanted this conversation to be as private as possible.  So she slunk through the rows until she found him.  Light filtered from behind the closed flap of the tent, and—noting the dual occupancy—she hoped he was alone. 

Lacking anything to knock on, she cleared her throat and said, “Excuse me, Agent Zhang?” 

“Yes?” 

She fidgeted only a moment before ducking her head inside.  She found him blessedly alone, sitting at a small card table in the corner with his feet prompted up on the bed next to him.  A pair of glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose while a book lay open in his lap.  He snapped it shut and straightened upon seeing her at the entryway, and Mariemaia had the distinct sense that he had felt somehow exposed by being relaxed. 

_May as well get on with it_ , she thought.  “I know who you are,” she sputtered, twisting her fingers before her to avoid wringing her hands.  The man quirked an eyebrow over the dark rim of his glasses, but said nothing.  A moment passed between the.  Then another.  Biting her lip, Mariemaia began to doubt herself.  “I won’t tell anyone,” she assured, “I just...I wanted you to know that I remembered you.” 

Another tense moment passed, his dark eyes sizing her up.  At last, he said, “I remember you too.  I won’t tell anyone either.” 

Mariemaia nodded and began to breathe normally again.  She turned to leave— 

“Why did you come here?” 

She turned back to him at the question and replied, “To...to tell you—” 

“No,” he corrected with a shake of his head.  He waved his arm before him, taking in the makeshift living quarters and the camp beyond the canvas walls.  “Why did you come _here_.”  

“Oh.”  Mariemaia considered the question, turning it over and over in her mind before she replied, “I graduated in June.  A lot of my friends were planning to travel, enjoy the summer off before university, but...I saw the announcement on the news.  I wanted to help.” 

He nodded slightly, seeming to think hard on her answer.  He was silent for what felt like ages and Mariemaia wondered if she should go, but still she lingered at the door.  Just in case.  At last, he gestured to the second chair at the small table where he sat and ordered, “Sit.” 

Her years at secondary had trained her into reluctant obedience to that tone, and Mariemaia made short work of the distance that separated the two of them.  She took the offered seat and pressed the heels of her hands into her thighs to avoid fidgeting under his steady gaze.  His face was unreadable.  She wondered if she had done something wrong by coming here and disturbing his personal time, and then acknowledging his secret aloud on top of it.   

Wufei then said, “You said you graduated in June.  You’re eighteen now, I take it?” 

“Yes.” 

“How do you like adulthood?” 

This took her aback.  “Excuse me?” 

He smirked at her and leaned forward, setting his book down on the table.  Some French title she didn’t recognize, the embossed text fading with age.  “You’re only a few years in, I suppose,” he acknowledged.  “Eighteen was a decent year.  Seventeen was harder.”   

Mariemaia felt the knots slowly unwind in her stomach.  She felt her lips twitch at the corners as she allowed herself a grin.  “Same here,” she replied. 

He nodded and then asked, “So what does a Khushrenada do when she’s no longer a Khushrenada?” 

The question let loose another batch of butterflies in her stomach; but she looked into his eyes and saw no judgement there, only curiosity.  She therefore straightened her back and answered, “She becomes an Une and gets to work saving the world, one job at a time.” 

Wufei rewarded her with a smile.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] 你呢 (nǐ ne) = And you?
> 
> [2] Surname in question is 张 which has been romanized in LAM as “Zhang” for the sake of avoiding the heavy ‘ch-’ sound from readers.  I’m only sorry it took so long to get to that.


	10. Chapter 10

**NYC Preventers Branch  
** **New York, New York  
** **206 September 19**  

Heero’s fingers flew across the keys, so close to the end of the report he could almost taste the finish.  But the phone at the corner of his — well, Wufei’s — desk had started to ring.  Frantically he raced to the end of his thought, daring the caller to stay on the line a little bit longer.  His mystery caller humored him just long enough, and he answered seconds before the machine kicked over to voicemail.  “Yuy.” 

“Yehr workin’ late,” drawled the voice on the other end and Heero felt his stomach flip. 

“Duo,” he muttered.  “Why are you calling on the work line?” 

“Your cell’s dead and your desktop’s been inactive for hours,” came the quick reply, the L2 accent evaporating.  “Figured I’d try the office before ordering a search party.” 

Heero groaned, glancing at his bag where it hung by the door.   _Second time this week._  “I need to get another charger for here at the office,” he said, more to himself than Duo.  Then he looked at the clock on his monitor and frowned.  “What time is it there in Brussels?”  

“Eh, well...we’re currently in Moscow, but the answer is ‘late’ regardless.” 

There was a...thickness to Duo’s voice that made Heero’s frown deepen.  “You sound sick.” 

There was a half-hearted, rasping laugh in reply.  “There’s some bug going around the team,” Duo said.  “Nothin’ the ‘bots [1] can’t handle.  It’ll pass.”  There was a pause, and then he asked, “How are you?” 

Heero closed his eyes and sighed.  The rest of the office had long since gone home while he had stayed late to finish the damn report, knowing full well the same thing would happen tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that…  “Tired,” he answered Duo.  “I don’t know how Wufei does this job.  Everything is his problem, all the time, every day.” 

“Sounds like our Chief of Staff,” Duo said.  “Up for twenty, down for four, and then she does it all over again.  Know her secret?  Caffeine and sheer adrenaline.  She keeps the rest of us marching to the same beat, too.  Which means I’ve gotten really fuckin’ good at high-velocity power naps.  You’d be so proud of some of the places I’ve sacked out.” [2] 

A dry laugh slipped between Heero’s lips and he shook his head, leaning back in his chair.  “Must you make a habit of that though?”

 “Must you make a habit of imitating Wufei’s work ethic?” Duo shot back, imitating him, though humor took the sting out of the words.  “He is coming back, ya know.  Don’t put him out of a job.” 

“I told him I’d try not to do that,” Heero admitted. 

“‘Fraid yehr doin’ a piss-poor job o’that.” 

_His accent’s stronger when he’s unwell.  He doesn’t pay as close attention to it._  Heero debated whether to share his observation but decided against it.  Instead, he said, “You really do need your rest.  Can you run shifts instead?”  Duo outright laughed at him.  The sound made Heero smile, but then it devolved into a coughing jag.  “Duo…” he intoned.  

“I’m fine,” the other man said, but it sounded forced to Heero.  He suspected Duo thought it did too because when he spoke next, he had changed the subject.  “So when am I gonna see you again?” 

Heero sighed as he thought about it.  “When are you free?” 

“Don’t know,” Duo admitted.  “Depends on how the ESUN calendar shakes out.  You?” 

“Don’t know,” Heero parroted.  “Depends on when Wufei gets back, probably.”  A moment of silence passed between them, each considering their options.  At last, Heero offered, “December?” 

“Maybe.” 

Heero bristled.  “Maybe?” 

“If I ask nicely.” 

“So ask nicely,” he told him.  “We’ll plan for Christmas and if something works out before then, it works out.”  Heero didn’t like how defeated he sounded.  December still felt so far away.  There was a long pause on the other end, and he worried he had said something wrong or — worse yet — the call had dropped.  “Duo?” 

“I miss you, you know,” the other man said. 

The emotion in those few words a heady thing.  How Duo managed to make them delicate and dangerous at the same time, Heero would never know.  It made his chest clench and his ears ring.  “I miss you too,” Heero told him.   

“I wasn’t just calling to do a headcount,” Duo said and Heero could hear the shift happening in real time as defenses moved back into place.  “Although I could do that, too.  Quat’s in Damascus.  Trowa’s up in L3 for another few days.  Wufei’s somewhere in the boondocks of the Federation.  And you’re at work,” the last was delivered with over-exaggerated frustration. 

Heero recognized the evasion but allowed himself to be pulled along.  “You’re at work too,” he countered. 

“No, I’m in Moscow.  We’ve established that.  Clearly the fatigue is gettin’ to yehr head, man.” 

Heero shook his head.  “I only have fifteen more minutes, after I’m done talking to you.” 

“Promise?” 

“I promise,” Heero assured, allowing himself to sound ever so slightly exasperated, adding, “so long as you agree to see someone about the cough.” 

When Duo replied, he sounded earnest.  “We have a doc on call with the traveling team.  If it doesn’t go away in a couple days, I’ll talk to him.  Satisfied?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

“Duo?” 

“Huh?”

_I love you_.  Heero worried his lower lip between his teeth, biting back the words.  No...no, he shouldn’t say that.  Not yet.  Not now.  “Please get some sleep.  And next time you want to talk, I’ll...make sure I’m home so you can use the video, okay?”  

“Sounds like a plan,” Duo asserted and Heero could almost see that grin, one of the honest ones that held just the barest shadows of relief.  “Good night, Heero.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Reminder to readers: Duo, like Heero, has had nano-augmentation done.  The robots help him fend off disease and injury.
> 
> [2] Falling asleep at seemingly inopportune times and locations is a hidden talent of Heero’s.  See Endless Waltz.


	11. Chapter 11

**L’Apothicaire  
** **Geneva, Switzerland  
** **206 October 7**  

Une sat in growing frustration as the man beside her at the bar sought to draw her into conversation.  She had humored him at first but had quickly realized her error when he turned fully toward her and leaned close.  Normally, she would have laid the man out with a verbal assault to rival the best of military dressing-downs, but she was waiting for someone and there were no other seats available.  She made a show of checking her watch again.   _Come on Sally…_  

The two of them had gotten close over the months since her retirement.  Sally had always been a reliable collaborator, equal parts canary in a coal mine and antagonist.  But since Une’s withdrawal from the Preventers hoard, Sally had become far more than that.  A friend certainly, but of late it seemed she had become something else too, taking on an amorphous category to herself.  Sally was the first person Une now called on ‘off’ days, the first person she sought out for advice, the first person she looked to for distraction.   

And distract she did.  The woman had an attitude that was outmatched only by the ink on her skin.  Voluptuous, virtuous, and vicious in equal measure.  Une liked her.  Liked her a lot.  Especially on nights spent alone in London. 

But thoughts of taking action terrified her.  Entering the fray of lust and romance felt alien after so many years away from it.  What’s more, Sally was an intimidating force in her own right and seemed to have a proclivity for fast women.  Une doubted she could hold up against such competition.  So she pined quietly and hoped Sally wouldn’t notice.  Her friendship meant too damn much for Une to make a misstep. 

“So what brings you back to Geneva?” the man beside her asked. 

Une rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to unleash a scathing remark, tired of playing the ‘be nice’ game.   

Before she could do so, however, Sally materialized between them.  With a hasty, “Sorry I’m late, love,” she took Une’s face in her hands and kissed her soundly. [1] 

Stunned, Une could hardly respond.  Sally’s lips were soft against her own, her fingertips gentle where they caressed her jaw.  Over Sally’s shoulder, Une watched the man who had hounded her evening fidget, look away...and promptly vacate his stool. 

When they parted, Sally grinned at her and slid onto the now-empty seat beside her.  Une flushed and bit her lip.  It still tingled from the kiss.  “What was that?” she hissed. 

“The fastest way I could think of to rescue you,” Sally replied as she waved down a bartender. 

“You think I need rescuing?” 

“‘Need,’ no.  Never,” Sally clarified, bourbon now secured.  She took a sip from her glass and continued, “‘Want’...that’s a bit trickier.  I weighed the possibility my attempts to whisk you off your feet would result in a right hook and decided it was worth the risk regardless.”  Sally winked at her over the rim of her glass at this last. 

Une felt her chest tighten.  “You knew.” 

Sally turned to face her fully, setting her glass on the bartop.  “I suspected, for the last couple of months,” she told her.  “But I didn’t know.  Not until just now.” 

They shared a tense moment of silence and Une suspected they were each coming to terms with their new reality, still fearing rejection.  Taking a deep breath, Une reached out and took the other woman’s hand in her own, her fingertips pressed into the palm of Sally’s hand.  “Good choice.” 

Sally smiled at her, and it was the sweetest thing Une had seen in a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] [Easter Egg](https://youtu.be/XojvjfuPi4M) to the Gillian Anderson and The Fall fans.


	12. Chapter 12

**Large Conference Room, L4 Island Council  
** **L4-V05001  
** **206 November 17**  

Quatre could feel himself growing impatient with the men and women before him.  They had decades of experience on him, but the decades weren’t what he needed.  These council elders remembered the times before free movement had opened up across the colonial populace, before the colonies presented a viable unified force to the international community, before that unified force got the most pro-independence candidate into the ESUN President’s seat.   

But the times were changing, and they had been over and over the proposal and still they resisted.   _Allah...give me the strength not to murder these people today…_  

“But why should we bring in so many?” one of the men asked.  “L1 is only bringing up two thousand refugees.  L3 less than that.  Why should we bear the brunt of it?” 

“Because we’re the ones with the social support structure that can absorb it,” Quatre argued.  “Because we can.  Because they’re colonists too.  Because it’s the right thing to do.” 

“But—” 

Quatre sighed and closed his eyes.  His thoughts drifted to Wufei, who had been embedded in the Chinese Mainland since June.  The man had been registering new global citizens, playing interpreter, and trying his best to prevent local politicians and security forces from halting flights out of the Federation on bullshit fraud charges.  At least the local hired thugs had stopped planting IEDs on the roads connecting the refugee camps to the outside world. 

“These people are stateless,” Quatre murmured.  “They have been since ‘95.  When L5 went, it took everything—homes, pasts, families, futures.” 

“It happened here too,” one of the women at the other side of the table said, “during the war.” 

Quatre schooled his features.  “The colony was evacuated, which suggests the pilot wanted to make a statement, not kill people.”  He shook his head.  “L5 _died_.  Truly.  And everyone who was off-colony was orphaned when it happened.  We recovered.  They couldn’t.  And we’ve done a shit job of taking care of anyone but ourselves for a very long time. [1]  

“We’re only as strong as the weakest among us, and we will only get stronger if we work together,” Quatre continued.  “The Alliance knew that.  That’s why they kept us all apart after Heero Yuy was assassinated.  They were scared of what we could do if we were unified.  Now the reins are off and yet we _still_ haven’t banded together, too self-interested after so long apart.  We need to relearn how this works.” 

“That sounds rather subversive, Mr. Winner.” 

Quatre looked up to meet the dark eyes of an older man who sat a few seats down.  He could have been his father’s age, and the thought twisted his stomach in unhelpful ways.  But where he had expected suspicion or fear or — worst of all — weakness, he saw only quiet support.  He’d won an ally.  Quatre gave him a dangerous smile.  “So be it.  And let’s show them what we’re capable of.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Headcanon Alert: L4 escaped much of the abuse and isolation other colony clusters experienced in the time following Heero Yuy’s assassination because it adopted a position of pacifism and non-intervention.  This made them low-threat in the eyes of the Alliance.


	13. Chapter 13

**Une Residence  
** **London, England  
** **206 December 23**  

Mariemaia observed this strange woman before her.  Tattoos adorned her muscled arms, while her blond hair tumbled about her shoulders in soft curls.  Her eyes laughed.   _Sally.  Her name is Sally_.  

“Wufei tells me you were working with him in the Federation,” Sally told her, making conversation.  “Said you did good work.” 

“You know Wufei?”  That was interesting.  She filed the fact away for now. 

Sally only smiled.  “Pretty well, actually.  We’ve worked together a number of times.  He’s a good man.” 

There was a story behind those words, drifting just below the surface.  Mariemaia made another mental note before she said, “Mom tells me you two are dating.” 

If Sally was surprised by her directness, she didn’t show it.  “We are,” she acknowledged.  “This was my opportunity to make a good impression.”  She leaned forward, “How am I doing?” 

Mariemaia had returned to London from the Federation about a week prior.  The experience had left her energized and confident, and she had blazed through the threshold of her mother’s small space in London with all the unharnessed energy of a rising sun.  Une had only raised an eyebrow at this new creature, this young woman who had returned to life in the city, before wrapping her arms around Mariemaia’s smaller frame.  The embrace had felt divine and only then did Mariemaia realize how much she had missed her guardian.  They had spent hours and hours talking, getting to know each other again after such an extended absence, but Mariemaia could tell there was something on her mother’s mind. 

Finally, she was able to get it out of her—there was someone.  A woman.  “I’d like you to meet her,” Une had said one evening earlier in the week.  “She’s a...former colleague of mine, and a good friend.” 

Mariemaia recognized the undertones.  It was subtle, barely there.  She recognized it from a similar conversation she had had with a classmate years ago.  “Girlfriend material?” 

Une had drawn up short at the question and the two of them stared each other down.  At last, Une’s lips twitched upward in a small hint of a smile.  “Perhaps.  That’s up to you.” 

Mariemaia turned her thoughts back to the present and Sally.  The woman’s face was honest and friendly.  Sincere.  Hopeful.  She gave her a lopsided grin.  “I like your ink.  Plus you’re a Preventer, which means you can handle your shit.  And in my limited experience, Wufei has become an excellent judge of character over the years.  But here’s the thing…” She leaned forward and whispered, “What I really need is someone who can help me convince Mom that life is too short to stress out so much, and she really needs to lighten up a bit.” 

Sally gave her a conspiratorial grin.  “Aw, hun.  You can count on me — that is my primary objective.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Uptown  
** **New York, New York  
** **206 December 24**  

In a fit of madness — or brilliance, she was still working that out — Relena had sent _him_ a message.  An innocuous thing on the surface, there was nothing in it which would attract undue attention from the gremlins monitoring her email traffic.  She had to trust he could read between the lines. 

Relena had been in steady communication with Wufei while he had been working in the Federation.  Feeling daring, she had once asked him for a picture.  It had taken him several days to reply, but he had.  The photo was accompanied by only, “Recognize anyone?”  At first, she had thought he’d meant himself.  She had hardly recognized him amidst the gaggle of aid workers crammed into the frame of the shot, the facial hair throwing her off.  But then she’d seen the mop of brilliant red hair beside him and had nearly died laughing at the improbability of it all. 

According to Heero, Wufei had returned to New York in mid-December with a renewed sense of purpose and had promptly resumed his duties as Branch Deputy with fervor.  Relena’s sense from talking to Heero was that his relief at no longer serving as Wufei’s stand-in was short-lived; the man was a force of nature which the NYC Preventers team had forgotten how to deal with. 

Therefore, when she arrived in New York on ESUN business, she’d half-expected Wufei to be too buried in his work to acknowledge her.  She was pleasantly surprised to be wrong. 

_Of course I’ll come over_ , his reply had read, sending a little thrill up and down her spine.   _What time?  I assume I don’t need a tux this year._  

Wufei arrived at 2100 on the dot, as requested — Relena expected nothing less.  But seeing him in the flesh for the first time in a year did strange things to her insides and she felt her cheeks start to burn.   

Clean-shaven, he was darker than she remembered, tanned by the Xinjiang sun.  His black hair was pulled back in the ever-present ponytail at the nape of his neck, but his face was thinner, harder.  He was immaculately dressed in a three-piece gray suit and she found her fingers itching to trace the seams that ran down his torso.   

When her wandering gaze reached his dark eyes, she found them laughing at her.  “Elevator eyes can go both ways, you know,” Wufei teased her.   

Relena watched his eyes slide down the length of her, the undivided attention making her shudder.  She flushed under his steady gaze and retreated half a step into the suite.  “Please come in,” she said.  “I hope my security detail didn’t cause you any trouble.” 

Wufei shook his head as he stepped inside, closing the door gently behind him.  “They gave me a hard look but left me alone.  Presumably that means they were expecting me.” 

“There’s a very short list of people who can reach me on my personal time,” Relena said.  “I added you.”   

He acknowledged this bit of information with a slight nod as he took in the suite itself with its expansive common area.  When he turned back to her, Relena realized with a start that he was letting her lead this dance.  The thought sent another electric shock up her spine but it was accompanied by a wave of uncertainty.  She was out of her depth and still hoped he would meet her halfway and take the lead from there.  Seeking a diversion, she gestured to the bar.  Wufei shrugged and followed her over. 

The bottle of white wine had come with the room and she’d had it on ice since Wufei had agreed to come over.  Relena pulled over a pair of glasses while he plucked the bottle from the ice bucket where it had been chilling.  He briefly read over the label before uncorking it with the screw that rested nearby.   

As Wufei poured them each a glass, he asked her, “So that we’re on the same page...why did you invite me over?” 

Relena bit her lip.  “It’s been a year,” she said as he passed her one of the glasses of wine.  “I wanted to see you.” 

He shifted beside her to lean his hip against the bar as he set the bottle back in the ice bucket.  “And?” he asked, the word carrying the greater weight of the unspoken question. 

Relena steeled her nerves and replied, “And,” turning the word into an answer itself.  She faltered then, finding his gaze unreadable, adding, “If you were amenable, that is.” 

She watched a knowing smile find its way to his lips.  He raised his own glass and silently toasted her, the crystal clinking delicately between them.  Relena took a sip watching him.   _Still in the lead then_ , she mused, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.   

“I don’t want to give you the wrong impression,” Relena muttered.  An eyebrow arched with piqued curiosity but he said nothing, so she continued, “I don’t make a habit of inviting attractive men to my hotel rooms.”  This earned her a smirk and she had the distinct impression he was trying not to laugh.  “What’s so funny?” 

“Well...to be honest,” he said at last, setting his glass down on the bar, “half of me thinks that’s a damn shame.” 

Relena pressed her lips into a thin line.   _Don’t I know it_.  “And the other half?”  

“The other half hopes desperately that I can live up to expectations.” 

Relena felt a fire light in her belly at the admission.  The rational part of her brain was telling her this was—potentially—a very bad idea.  The animal brain was already assessing how quickly she would be able to get through the buttons on his vest to the tan skin underneath.   _Keep it together, Relena…_  “How can I tell you’re not just humoring me so that I don’t feel like a fool?  How do I know you’re not just trying to help me save face?”  

There was a flash of concern in Wufei’s eyes.  “Why would I do that?” 

“I don’t know,” Relena admitted, setting her wine glass aside.  “But you’re so damn honorable—”  That was as far as she got.  Before she could finish her thought, he had closed the distance, cradled her face in his calloused hands, and kissed her.   

It was gentle at first, reassuring, coaxing.  The electric currents in her spine flared to life once more, making her tingle and ache as the world fell away.  Curling her fingers around his lapels, Relena pulled Wufei closer, deepening the kiss.  He dutifully followed, trapping her between himself and the bar behind her.  With the added support, Relena released his suit and ran her hands up his chest and over his shoulders to curl around the back of his neck and hold him in place.  Faintly, she registered his jacket falling away entirely, his hands leaving her face to find purchase at her hips.   

Reaching up blindly, Relena tugged at the band that held his hair back and was surprised at how easily it slipped free.  She tangled her fingers in the black strands and fisted the hair at the base of his skull with a tug.  He groaned against her mouth in response and began to pull her blouse free of her skirt.   

The feeling of his fingers ghosting over the skin of her lower back shocked her senses.   _ No...not here. _  Reluctantly, she pulled away from the kiss, leaving them both gasping.  She closed her eyes and pressed their foreheads together while the world returned around them.  Carefully  freeing his hair from her grasp, Relena took his hand from her waist, their fingers intertwining, and headed for the bedroom.


	15. Chapter 15

**Uptown  
** **New York, New York  
** **206 December 25**  

Wufei returned to consciousness slowly.  He’d fallen asleep with his contacts in and spent precious minutes blinking up at the ceiling, willing the tears to come before he started scratching at his eyes.  He stretched out a hesitant arm and discovered the bed empty beside him.  He then gingerly reached his hand to the pillow.  It was cool to the touch.  With growing apprehension, he swallowed thickly and pushed himself upright.  His eyes swept the dark room which was lit only by the dull, ever-present glow of New York’s neon lights filtering in from behind the heavy curtains. 

He found Relena sitting in the lounge chair in the corner.  Her legs were curled up to her chest and she had pulled his dress shirt on in what he assumed was an effort to regain some semblance of modesty.  The sight set off alarm bells in his head.  “Relena?” 

She turned to look at him and offered a weak smile.  “Hey.” 

She looked worried.  Wufei wanted to go to her, to chase away whatever fears had found her in  the night; however, distinctly aware of his state of undress, he felt that would perhaps be unwise.  So instead, he asked, “What’s wrong?” 

“I…” She faltered and took a shaky breath before trying again.  “I’m not sure this was a good idea.” 

The words hit him like a sucker punch.  His throat clenched but he managed to utter, “Why?”  She didn’t answer right away.  He hated the question that was coming next, but knew he had to ask.  “Do you want me to leave?” 

The reply came lightning fast.  “No,” Relena replied.  A pained look then crossed her face in the dim light and Wufei had the impression she was warring with herself and his waking had interrupted an ongoing debate.  “It’s just that… _they_ have expectations,” she continued, gesturing weakly to the world outside the bedroom door.  “Those expectations dictate everything I do.  I have a role to play.  And under that modus operandi, I should _not_ be fucking Gundam pilots.” 

The coarseness of her words caught him off-guard, the frustration and fatigue palpable.  But beneath the surface, there was loneliness.  It was something Wufei recognized well.  “If I may — as an objective observer…” he began, drawing her attention, “I think you should _definitely_ be fucking Gundam pilots.”  The comment earned him a half-hearted gasp of laughter.  It was a start.   

_“Pilots,”_ she said, hissing the ‘s’.  “As in plural.” 

“Well, I mean—” he sputtered, thankful for the darkness as his cheeks burned.  “Maybe you could start with just one.”  Across the room, Relena laughed and the tension that surrounded her began to melt away.  Wufei stretched out a hand and urged, “Come back to bed.”  When she hesitated, he added, “ _They_ can wait.” 

To his relief, Relena uncurled from the chair and crossed to the bed.  Taking his offered hand, she climbed back in beside him, shucking off his shirt as she did so.  Rearranging the comforter over her, Wufei tucked them both in once more.  He pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of her head as he settled down beside her, draping a protective arm across her hip. 

“What happens now?” she asked. 

“Now we go back to sleep.  It’s still early.” 

“You know what I mean,” she chastised him.  “Where do we go from here?” 

Wufei pressed his lips against her forehead and closed his eyes.  For a moment, he breathed in the scent of her.  And then he murmured, “I’ll do a walk of shame back to the apartment.  After work, I’ll come back here the next night, if you want me to.  But then you’ll go back to Brussels and we’ll each go back to our lives.” 

He felt Relena’s breath hitch against him.  She pressed herself to his chest and he brought his arm up to curl around her ribs.  He drew circles into the soft skin of her back.  “But if you don’t want this to be goodbye,” he continued, “then I can arrange to see you in Brussels.  Or somewhere in between if you’d prefer.” 

Relena was quiet for a time in his arms, but then she suggested, “Like London.” 

“Or Paris.” 

“Madrid.” 

“Lisbon.” 

“I notice we keep going southwest in this plan of yours,” she pointed out.  “Why not Reykjavik?” 

Wufei smiled into the darkness.  “There’s an idea.  I know someone who could share some insider knowledge, as it happens.”   

Relena pushed herself up and away from him.  He met her gaze and found her soft and trusting and open in a way he’d never seen before.  As she stared down into his eyes, he knew he’d raze a thousand cities to the ground if it meant that she’d always look at him as she was now.  And as she leaned forward to kiss him, he felt his heart burn itself to ashes in his chest.


End file.
